Jinmirai, Mai Satsugaisha
by Fate VII
Summary: Yami Bakura thinks about the strange younger Kaiba, who was just a means to an end at one time but inexplicably began to dominate his entire mind, to his perplexity. Sequel to 'Jinmirai, mai kaitou'


Fate: Bwahaha! Heeeeeeere it is! 'Jinmirai, mai satsugaisha' is finally written! Woohoo! Now, all that's left is 'Jinmirai, mai yami'. ^^ You may think of it as three separate 'fics or each as a part of a trilogy. 

Disclaimer: Eeep. I don't know why Takahashi-sama would want to own this creepy stuff, but he does. *shudder* *flee*

&

You perplex me.

And haunt me.

And...I don't know.

I'm not often this confused. Not on the outside, at least. I've trained myself to hide behind a mask of innocence, a mask I stole from one so pure and clean that hiding is easy, and only my eyes betray me.

I respect you for your mask, for the ease in which you switch from angel to demon, brother to betrayer and back again. You didn't even cheat for that mask. It was something you were born with and cultivated, with years of long practice curing your tender soul into impenetrable toughness. 

You also intrigue me, do you know that?

When I first came across you, your soul was supposed to be locked in the Shadow Realm, where my beloved monsters live, the place that caged me and spawned me and made me timeless and ageless.

Your soul? Trapped in the Shadow Realm?

The thought amuses me no end.

The Shadow Realm could never truly hold you captive. You are simply too strong under that bitter tough thickened exterior. Strong in a way that I envy, strong in a way I could almost lust after...

But no.

Pray ignore my unseemly thoughts and forgive my uncontrolled emotions. 

_Father forgive me for I have sinned..._

I heard that once. 

It has a nice ring to it.

What do you think of it, I wonder?

_I have killed and will kill again..._

What do you think, my lovely young raven-haired, black-hearted murderer?

Shall I be as your father confessor? Will you someday whisper your sins in my ear as I wind my fingers in your ebony tresses? Or is this all just a fantasy, a dream, a burst of pure savage uncontrolled feelings?

Restraint will guard one against more than the spear that seeks to take their life, for it may even save their soul...

I practice restraint for no more reason than an anachronism, as I have no soul to protect and no life to save. I while away the hours in the vast empty darkness trying not to scream or cry or breathe or think or feel, just to burn away the sorrows and bury my mistakes.

But what is restraint worth, in the long run, when it will benefit me not? Does it now serve only to alienate me from those who would stitch my tattered soul together and resurrect my hollow life? I wonder.

I suppose you have no need to practice restraint, as it is now your normal state of existence. Your smoldering, crushed soul brings you restraint and distance in everything you touch. 

You will be a great businessman someday.

You could be a greater pharaoh.

And to think I met you over a few silly trifles, a lark in someone else's body, a few worthless codes. I was bored, I was restless, I was aching for change. If I had truly wanted any of those things, I think I should never have even gone near you.

Seshat's luck shone upon us, dark as we are. A chance encounter, a glance from soulless eyes, a soundless whisper from frozen lips, and suddenly an enchantment was woven around me.

Curiouser and curiouser. I am not usually susceptible to physical charms, though I must confess that I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh when offered.

However, you _are_ striking, my young murderer.

I am unsure as to whether your peculiar beauty is due to your looks or your soul, or perhaps a combination of both. Whichever it is, it captivates me.

You captivate me.

I watch you from behind Ryou's eyes sometimes. I sate myself on you, my own private drug that affects the mind and the senses, quietly in my soul room. I tune out Ryou's sad whispers and focus on you alone when I can't bear the darkness anymore. 

Of course there should be a barrier between you and me, between my answers and my questions.

I need Ryou to survive in this day and age, naïve and bodiless as I usually am. You need your brother equally badly, young as you are. How irksome technicalities can be.

I wonder why I believe that you alone can solve my problems and repair my shattered self. It must be something more than the empathy of two murderers who killed and delighted in it, or the catch of an eye and the tossing of hair. 

I wonder why I believe that you would wish to come to my rescue at all. I see no extra gleam in your masked eyes when you look at me through Ryou, nor do I hear a difference in your changing voice. But you are the master of illusion and the champion of disguise, and if you fear rejection or disappointment, then I should not be so surprised at the ease with which you slide into your camouflage as an innocent child who unknowingly stares into the eyes of the devil.

I remember my first glimpse of you, though, as a supposedly soulless young boy who cannot fight back and would be putty in my cruel, bloodstained hands. 

Your head lolled in that oafish mortal's grasp and your blank eyes locked on mine, and in a split second I saw things that no one had ever thought to share with me, save for the infrequent tentative gestures of my hikari. 

And I suddenly saw lust and fire and life like I had never known, since you were half-paralyzed and helpless to stop your soul from pouring out at my feet, and I desired all that and more so badly my judgment snapped. 

You saw how many I killed that day for a taste of you, only to be thwarted. I burned and writhed that day in my soul room, shrieking and wailing until Ryou had to hold me down and keep me from tearing myself apart in my madness, and pure fury ran in my veins like blood.

You are not so young in soul, nor am I so old, as people are wont to think. We have been kissed by the devil and are forever marked with his empty eyes and gory hands. 

My dear puzzling murderous Mokuba, someday you and I will lead the world to madness and death and evil, and we will champion lust and hatred and fire as we mend each other's torn selves and rise forever into glory.

Someday soon, before this craving turns to insanity and eternal darkness.

And may Ra help the pitiful souls of anyone who dare part us.

%

Fate: Seshat is the goddess of fate and writing.

The White Ferret: *threatens the readers with the promise of bringing Duel in* I'll fetch her, you know. Mwahaha. I shall. And then you'll suffer, oh yes...so you must click on the purple button in the lower left and send us comments, so Fate will be satisfied and sated and write more. MWAHAHAHAAAAAA!


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